


Love Can't Stand Alone

by spacemonkey766



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Barry Allen Needs a Hug, Family, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Good Parent Joe West, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Joe West
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 20:02:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15848367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacemonkey766/pseuds/spacemonkey766
Summary: Three times in 15 years, Joe watched Barry’s heart be broken by his own father. The first time was by force, the second was by choice, and the third was in death. Barry knew his father loved him, but love alone can not sustain a person. But Barry would make it because Joe would carry him.





	1. First

**Author's Note:**

> authors note: title inspiration and lyrics are from “Love Can’t Stand Alone" by Bear’s Den. I am constantly inspired by Joe’s love for Barry; to love a child that isn’t yours, a love that goes beyond blood, is just heroic to me.
> 
> I also made a video to this song for Joe and Barry. Feel free to check it out!  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mQozVFV_ACA

Chapter 1 - First

I remember the night you lost to me  
All of the fires still burn within  
You started choking down vitamins  
If I mentioned his name I was sent to bed  
You check if I'd gone to sleep  
And I closed my eyes and heard you leave  
I pray for the day my prayers will mend  
But nothing ever came that was heaven sent

 

Joe West climbed the stairs slowly and cautiously through his dimly lit home, sock-clad feet almost moving soundlessly across the wood staircase as he approached the first door in the upstairs hall. What used to be the guest bedroom now was becoming known as Barry Allen's room.

It had been a hard day for the eleven-year-old boy. He'd only been living in the West household for two weeks now. His first week with them Barry was quiet, hardly saying anything, suffering his grief silently. The second week was rough, his grief consuming him until it became a desperate rage. Barry kept trying to run away to see his dad, had screamed at Joe that he wasn't his father and that he hated him. After a week of repeated failed attempts at running away, Barry had finally been able to escape Joe's watchful eye and ran all the way to Iron Heights.

Despite disobeying him, Joe couldn't find it in him to be mad at the boy. Barry wasn't trying to run away from, he was trying to run away to. The young boy was desperate to see his father. It had only been two weeks since the night that changed his whole world; having both his mother and father ripped away from him suddenly in the same night, his whole life uprooted and thrown into a chaotic and emotional mess.

The hardest part of the week though was tonight when Barry finally succeeded in seeing his father only to find out that it was Henry keeping him from visiting, not Joe.

"It isn't Joe that doesn't want you to come here," Henry was quick to squash any blame on Joe but his next words devastated Barry. "I don't want you to come here. I don't want you to see me like this."

Joe entered just as Barry pleaded with the guard to let Henry go. Henry stopped him though, expressing to his son that he couldn't help him and that he would be staying with Joe, the young boy's heart breaking at Henry's words. As Joe watched Henry pull Barry in for a hug, Joe fought down his anger, fought the urge to pull Barry away from the man who had killed his mother in front of him. Yes, Henry was still Barry's father but Joe couldn't see past the crime, couldn't forgive him for traumatizing his own son like that.

Henry was ushered out of the visitation room, leaving Barry to call out after him. Joe remained in the background as the sad eyes followed Henry until he was out of sight, willing him to return. Barry stood there for a few more minutes before finally turning towards Joe.

"I'm sorry, Joe," Barry's voice was quiet, head hung as he fought back tears.

"Barry," Joe knelt down to one knee as Barry came to stand before him, placing a hand on the kid's shoulder. "I understand why you did it, but I'm responsible for you now. I care about you, please don't ever run away like this again."

"I won't," Barry finally looked up at him, tears gathering in his eyes. "I'm sorry I said that I-"

"Don't worry about it," Joe interrupted as he stood, not wanting to make the boy suffer anymore. He patted Barry on the shoulder, motioning the boy to walk ahead of him as they exited the room. "Let's go home."

The car ride had been silent. Joe spared glances at Barry in the passenger seat, looking out the window, quiet tears spilling from his eyes. Nothing was said when they got home either. Barry went straight to his room, skipping dinner again and silently grieving in his room, just like he had each night for the past two weeks.

Joe's hand slowly twisted the knob while the other gripped the inner edge of the door as he slowly eased it open. Usually, Joe would bring a bowl of cereal or sandwich and leave it on the desk in the room for Barry in case he got hungry, only to find it barely touched the morning after. Tonight though, Joe skipped the food delivery and decided to just check on him.

As Joe peeked his head in, a small stream of the low light cast through the room. He entered the room softly and he could see the dried tear tracks on the young boy's cheeks as he lay face down on his bed. His back rose and fell evenly in undisturbed rest. Another night spent crying himself to sleep. It broke Joe's heart to see such a good kid be so broken.

Being a cop, he'd arrested plenty of people, young and old, that went down the wrong path that started as a child. Statistics showed that children from broken families had a higher risk of having a weaker sense of connection, a loss of a sense of community, and prone to crime, social chaos, and violence. He'd seen plenty of times what suffering a loss, a tragedy, abuse, or whatever terrible thing that should never happen to a child and what could happen when it did. Joe knew that foster kids were at a greater risk than their peers, experiencing Post Traumatic Stress Disorder at twice the rate of war veterans. One in three struggled in school, forty-three percent didn't graduate from high school or earn their GED, thirty percent of boys would be arrested by their nineteenth birthday.

But the young boy sleeping in front of him wasn't a statistic. He was a living, breathing child that Joe cared about. Barry was a smart, funny, kind boy. Joe had heard stories from Iris about Barry standing up for kids in school when they were bullied, how he'd never fight back but would instead try to pull attention from the bullies' victims and then run away. She told him how Barry would often be bullied for being the scrawny weirdo who liked science, and now Joe knew Barry would be picked on for being the scrawny weirdo who liked science and watched his dad kill his mom. But Barry had a light in him that impressed Joe, that Joe was hard-pressed to think would ever dim down. But the truth was tragedy could break a full grown adult, not to mention a young kid.

Things weren't going to get easier for Barry. He would have to live with the burden of his mother's death, the loss of his father's daily presence, and adjust to a new way of existing. Nightmares, anxiety, and loneliness were going to become familiar partners in Barry's life. This was just the beginning of his struggle. Yes, it would be difficult for Joe and Iris too. He didn't regret taking Barry in, but he would be lying if he didn't think that maybe there was someone else who could do better. But he couldn't send Barry away, even if he thought it was for the best. He'd just been abandoned, left all alone by the most important people in his life. Joe couldn't bear the thought of Barry thinking that he was abandoning him too. So Joe vowed that he would provide all the love and support that Barry would need to make sure he always stayed that smart, funny, kind boy. 

Even though he slept peacefully now, Joe knew the nightmares that plagued Barry every other night or so would be sure to come tonight. He saw the framed photo of the smiling Allen family, father, mother, and son posed picture perfectly in the cherry wooden frame in the lax grasp of the eleven-year-old's hand. Joe gently eased it from beneath Barry's hand and placed it safely on the bedside nightstand. Looking down at Barry, he brushed a gentle hand through the light brown hair. He couldn't be mad at Barry, not for desperately clinging to and craving the family he knew.

Grabbing the throw blanket from the foot of the bed, Joe delicately draped it over the resting child, noting that Barry was still dressed his day clothes, not even changing into his pajamas.

Joe hovered over the bed for a moment before moving across the bedroom, taking note of the room that used to be the guest room for when Grandma Esther came to visit or his father before he passed. But now it was Barry's room; and if the Allen case went the way he thought it would, it would be Barry's room for at least the next seven years until Barry turned eighteen. The only indication that someone was taking up residence here was the duffle bag of scattered belongings Joe could grab the day after the murder, a bright red school backpack, a suitcase full of clothes, and the young boy lying in the bed.

The young boy Iris met on the first day of fourth grade, who she got paired with for a school project, brought home the next day declaring to her father this was her new best friend; a slightly awkward yet funny boy who bounded with energy and light who had been inseparable from his daughter since. He'd spent many days over the West house before the night that brought him to them long term. When Joe had gone back to the Allen residence to gather things Barry might need, he'd been offered up a garbage bag by another officer. This young boy he'd come to care about over the last year and a half before becoming his guardian had just lost his family, his home, Joe would be damned if he brought Barry's belongings to him in a garbage bag. So Joe went home, grabbed a suitcase, and returned to the Allen household. He packed Barry's clothes inside, folding them with care, spotting a duffle bag in the boys closet which he used for some things like books and toys.

Two weeks later and everything was still being pulled from the duffel and suitcase as they were needed, Barry making no attempt to settle in. Joe couldn't blame him. He hadn't accepted this is as his new home yet and Joe knew that it would take time. Joe could give him that. He could give him time and support and anything he could need to adjust and move forward, to get back to the light that Barry had radiated since that first day Iris brought him home.

Joe brought the armchair from the other side of the room to move it to Barry's bedside. Plopping his tired body down into the chair, Joe watched the slow rise and fall of Barry's sleeping body, deciding that tonight if Barry woke he wouldn't be alone; decided that with everything he had in him Joe would make sure Barry would never feel alone again.


	2. Second

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2- Second
> 
> I think of him from time to time  
> Just what it is he left behind  
> His life alone will always remind me of all the things we had to look to find  
> Of the strength we both had to find  
> Of the strength we both had to find  
> That's all that he's left behind

Joe walked quietly down the upstairs hall, his mule-slipper clad feet making soft shuffling noises against the wood floor as he passed the slightly ajar door of Iris' old bedroom where his daughter was sleeping over tonight after a few too many glasses of champagne, and the closed door of Barry's bedroom which housed a sleeping Henry Allen. It was late into the night after their 'Welcome Home' party for Henry who had finally been released from a fourteen year wrongfully convicted prison sentence and Joe was on his way down to the kitchen to satisfy a midnight craving for a slice of the celebratory sheet cake that was leftover. 

He made his way down the stairs, quietly tip-toeing down in hopes of not disturbing Barry who had taken up residence on the couch after offering his room to his father. As he peered over the back of the couch to check on the young man, he noticed it was empty; pillow appearing like it had been slept on, throw blanket clearly tossed aside as it hung off the edge of the cushions. Joe listened for a moment, searching for sounds of Barry either in the kitchen or the bathroom down the hall. Looking around, he saw the dim glow of the porch light illuminating through the windows at the front of the house and saw that the front door was unlocked. Knowing he turned the light off and locked up before heading up to bed, Joe grabbed his jacket from the coat rack and reached for the handle. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before slowly opening the front door, deciding that his concern for Barry trumped his fear of intruding. He was greeted immediately with the sight of Barry sitting sideways on the top step, back propped against the banister, his head lifting from where it was leaned back to watch as Joe emerged from the West house. It was a familiar sight. Joe couldn't count the times he'd found either Iris or Barry out here thinking or Barry and Iris in deep conversation during their time growing up in this home. Taking note of how Barry was dressed simply in his pajamas consisting of black sweatpants and a gray henley, feet clad only in socks, hair matted and in disarray, Joe determined that Barry had come out here either from having had woken up in the middle of the night or gave up on attempting to sleep after tossing and turning.

"Barr? You okay?" Joe asked as he shrugged on his jacket, closing the front door behind him. Barry just nodded as Joe came to sit beside him at the top of the steps. "Couldn't sleep?"

Barry didn't say anything as he just leaned his head back against the banister, looking back up at the midnight stars past the overhang of the porch.

"Talk to me, son," Joe spoke soft and low, trying not to worry about Barry's uncharacteristic silence. Barry was usually quick to share with Joe, the older man being the person he seemed to trust the most with his safety, both physically and emotionally, ever since he assimilated into his new life after the tragedy he experienced when he was eleven. But it wouldn't be for a few minutes before Barry would lower his eyes to even look at Joe.

"Seven hundred and twenty-eight," Barry's voice was quiet, not much louder than a whisper. Joe didn't need to voice his confusion because Barry only paused for a minute before he continued. "One hour a week for fourteen years. Not even factoring in the nine months I was in a coma, or the first six months I wasn't allowed to see him, or even missed weeks because of a test or work or something stupid. In the last fourteen years, I've had roughly seven hundred and twenty-eight hours with my dad."

Barry took a deep breath, his hands fidgeting between his knees. Joe knew to wait. Over the last fourteen years, Joe had learned almost every nuance of Barry Allen; when he was happy or elated, embarrassed or shy, angry or heartbroken. He'd been there through every nightmare and victory and was adept at understanding how Barry dealt with his emotions. Right now the young man was processing and Joe knew well enough not to push Barry too soon, that if he waited Barry would reveal.

"You wanna know how many hours are in an average month, Joe? Seven hundred and thirty," Barry said, a small uncomfortable laugh following the voice that shook with a combination of anger and grief that Joe instantly recognized. He'd seen Barry experience that particular mix of emotions many times before, usually when he discussed his mother's murder or Henry's incarceration. Now it seemed that Barry equated his father's freedom with the same.

"All my Dad and I have are the first eleven years of my life, some of which I don't remember, obviously, because I was too young. But since then, from the time I was eleven to today we've spent collectively less than a month together. My whole life has happened in that time and my father and I haven't spent more than a month together. And I know its not his fault but…" Barry sighed. He rubbed a hand absently through his tousled hair as he fought to calm his nerves.

Joe reached a hand out to rest atop Barry's knee as the young man drew in a few breaths in an attempt to rein in his thoughts and words before he lost control of what he was trying to say. But Joe understood what Barry was talking about. He had stood in the living room watching Barry and Henry exchange words after Professor Stein's beautiful toast about moving forward.

"Are you not planning on sticking around?"

"Okay, do you think…Can you be all that you are becoming with me here."

"You're the only family that I have left."

"Well, that's not really true. Don't you have another family in this room? They need your help too, Barry. When you need me, I will be here. But right now Central City doesn't need you to be Henry Allen's son, it needs you to be The Flash. My kid, the superhero. I have to go. I need you to tell me that it's okay."

And with a tearful nod and a hug, Joe once again watched Henry Allen break his son's heart by leaving him behind. He couldn't blame Henry for needing time to rediscover who he was; losing a portion of your life, being blamed for killing the woman you loved, having your son and life ripped away, it was easy to understand how a person would need time to reclaim their identity. But as a father, a title he held more dear than any other accomplishment in his life, Joe couldn't understand leaving your son out of that equation, especially when you've been all but absent from his for so long. Joe couldn't stop feeling the pang of judgement, of anger and resentment that he used to feel every time he waited in the visitor center of Iron Heights Prison or dropped Barry off for his Saturday hour with his father, a man Joe at the time had been convinced had killed his wife in front of their young son.

Joe regarded Henry Allen with little else but disdain from the night of March 18th, 2000 till the moment he saw Barry kneeling on the dirt ground after having just unraveled a tornado by running around it at seven hundred miles per hour. It was in that moment he watched the boy he regarded as a son do the impossible that Joe realized that what the scared little boy had seen that night was true; that for years Joe had been wrong and Henry was innocent. But now as he saw that same boy, now a brilliant young man, once again feeling like he was being left behind, it wasn't disdain Joe experienced for Henry Allen. It was pity.

"We don't know each other, not really," Barry spoke. "We've tried…we've tried to learn as much as we can but you can only connect so much between a glass partition and a telephone; when you can count the number of hugs over the course of fourteen years on one hand. He'll always be my father, I'll always be his son and we love each other but that's not enough, is it? Love can't stand alone in a relationship. I'll never have with him what I have with you, Joe."

When Joe took Barry in, it was difficult watching the young boy pine for his father as Joe himself grew to care about Barry as if he was his own son. On the first Father's Day with his dad in prison, just three short months into Barry's new life in the West household, Barry had spent the beginning of the day begging to see his father despite Joe's adamant refusal. It was just Barry and Joe in the house with Iris away at summer camp and after getting into a shouting match, Barry told Joe he hated him and ran upstairs. It was the first time Barry had said that to Joe since the day before Barry had run away to the prison and discovered that it was Henry who in fact was keeping him from seeing him. But Barry had only hid in his room for an hour before running downstairs, grabbing Joe in a desperate hug and profusely apologizing. The rest of the day Joe and Barry spent huddled on the couch, Barry clinging to his side first as he cried, then as he smiled as he and Joe watched some old movie musicals Joe's grandmother used to put on for him when he was young and was sad.

Later that night, as Barry lay passed out on the couch, Joe called his Grandma Ester, the West matriarch who practically raised Joe and his siblings after his own mother died and father worked long hours as a cop. During that conversation she had conveyed her pride in her grandson for taking in Barry, telling him he was 'changing that boy's life'. He expressed his doubts as to if he was equipped to handle this, that he wanted to be the father Barry needed but wasn't sure that Barry wanted. In her infinite wisdom, Grandma Ester told Joe 'we know a mother or a father can love more than one child, and that once you remember that it's not hard to understand that a child can love more than one mother or father'.

Barry never told Joe that he hated him again. And over the course of fourteen years, it was only in bouts of rage that Barry used the fact that Joe wasn't his father against him, usually in emotionally charged moments where Barry wanted to hurt Joe because he was hurt by Joe's words.

There were still times Joe was slightly jealous of Henry, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't. There would always be something Henry had that Joe couldn't compete with because he was Barry's real father. But then Joe would remember that Henry was probably jealous of him; that Joe was able to raise that boy from kid to man. Joe knew Barry in a way that Henry never could and that was something Henry could never compete with. Neither man was at fault for either of those things, it was just the way their life was. What was important was Barry. And although for fourteen years Henry and Joe rarely spoke, there was an understanding between them that they were not in competition; the only thing that mattered was Barry and his well being.

"He said when I need him. But what about when I don't need him?" Barry finally continued his voice a sad kind of calm that conveyed just how tired and how defeated he felt. "Some of the best moments, the best memories I have are not the big things but the little things. Sitting around having a pizza, a conversation in a car ride, some stupid inside joke, I don't know. I don't have any of those moments with him, Joe. And after working most of my life to get him out of jail, to finally have that chance to have any of those kind of moments with him, he leaves."

Barry swiped at his cheek with his palm and then used the back to wipe at the few tears that had managed to escape the corners of his eyes as they rolled down his chin. Joe squeezed the knee still beneath his hand, a reassuring presence that he was here for Barry as he spoke, fighting every paternal urge in his bones to gather the young man in his arms. After Barry rid the errant tears from his face with his hand he placed it atop Joe's, fingers curling over Joe's fingers.

"I get it, I do," Barry exhaled, focusing on the hand beneath his own on his knee. "I mean, he was a prisoner for a crime he didn't commit for a long time. He needs to find who he is, find out who Henry Allen is now that he's free. I just guess I was hoping to be a part of that discovery. But today I realized that I'll always be that eleven year old, left behind, waiting for his dad to come home."

And there it was. Joe knew it was coming. It had been something he'd been expecting for some time now. For years Barry craved his father's love and presence, all his focus on the parent he had remaining and what he could do for Henry. When a child is forced into that, the child loses sight of their own emotions and needs, which unfortunately carries into adulthood. Barry's relationship never had the chance to evolve past that of a parent and a child, emotionally stunting and halting them both at the age and place they were that night when they both lost each other.

When Joe had heard Henry's words to Barry, Joe had realized what Henry had come to know as he watched the small group gathered in the house that Barry grew up in. Henry didn't belong here. Joe and Iris are Barry's family as much as Henry and Nora ever were. And with the addition of Cisco and Caitlin, Barry had the sense of belonging that he'd always craved and deserved. Even though the banner that Iris had hung said 'Welcome Home Henry', they weren't all really there to celebrate Henry because most of them only knew him through Barry's own longing for his father; they were there to support Barry and his joy.

Because that's what family did. What Henry had realized as they partied was that what Barry wanted, his father free and in his life, wasn't necessarily what he needed. What he needed was this life he built for himself, these people gathered that loved him, and the lightning that coursed through his cells. Once again, Henry Allen was relinquishing his son to Joe's care; considering Barry had never once stopped trying to prove his innocence the entire time he was in jail, Henry was now granting his son the freedom to live his life.

"It's stupid," Barry quickly moved his hand from where it clasped Joe's, rubbing his tired eyes.

"No, Barr, it's not," Joe finally spoke up. Barry had said what was on his mind, released the burden of what was weighing on his heart. Now it was Joe's turn to ease his son's troubled mind, try to mend his broken heart enough that Barry could move forward from what was an emotional, exhaustive year and start anew.

"I can't imagine what your dad's going through right now. I can't imagine what you are, what you have your whole life," Joe took a deep breath before continuing, reaching for Barry's hands and gathering them in his own. "I'm proud of you. What you've overcome, with all you've seen…sometimes I still see you as that lost boy that got left behind that night when you're world crashed around you. But I think that's because I can't help but always want to keep you from ever feeling that way again. I may not be your father, but I am your dad. Trust me when I say he will find his way back home to you. But until he does, your home will always be here."

Barry smiled sadly up at his foster father and Joe offered a sad smile in return. Joe knew he should probably defend Henry's decision or try to offer Barry the always reassuring notion that everything would be okay. But as he previously mused, he knew Barry Allen and what he needed.

"Come on, it's getting cold," Joe stood, pulling on the hands still clasped between his and urging Barry to his feet. "I think a midnight piece of cake is in order before Iris eats it all for breakfast tomorrow."

Barry smiled at Joe as he allowed himself to be led into the house. It wasn't that full beam smile that Joe loved to see, that he was sure Barry flashed when his father emerged from the gates of Iron Heights earlier that day or the brilliant light in Barry's eyes when he would arrive at STAR Labs after having managed to save everyone in need. But it was a real smile and even shrouded in sadness, Joe would take what he could get.

So they quietly ate the cake sitting side by side on the couch, the throw blanket draped over both of their lower bodies, until Barry succumbed to his exhaustion, arms folded over his chest, pitching slightly to the side as he fell asleep. Joe cleared the empty cake plate that had been balanced precariously on Barry's lap, grabbed the lankly legs that were dangled over the edge of the couch and maneuvered Barry into a more comfortable position, Barry instantly shifting to clutch at his pillow. Joe draped the throw over his son's body and headed back to his room.

The quest for a midnight snack had been more eventful than he anticipated, only initially searching for a sweet treat and instead finding a heart to heart with his son. But it was in these moments that Joe found his meaning, being a father. A big part of Joe wished Henry could have those too for his own sake, but Joe felt a little guilty for the other part of him that was grateful to have them with Barry himself. Barry was his in a way that he would never be Henry's, and Barry was Henry's in a way that he would never be Joe's. However, it was Joe who the universe entrusted with the protection and love of this forgotten child, time and time again, and Joe would never stop letting Barry know just how loved he actually was.


	3. Third

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 - Third
> 
> You sat there and cried 'til the morning come  
> And what you said don't you ever think I forgot  
> I'll never leave you out in the cold  
> Love can't stand alone  
> Love won't stand alone

Joe ran through the dark hall, bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor. He heard Iris call out behind him as he skid in front of Barry's bedroom door and threw it open. Barry was face down on the floor, limbs twisted and tangled in the bed sheets as they hung half suspended from the mattress and coiled around him. His legs were wrapped in the sheet, pinned together by the blanket and Barry was thrashing on the floor, screaming, eyes closed. Joe ran over to the struggling young man who was clearly in the midst of a horrible nightmare.

Joe had heard Barry's screams from down the hall. He hadn't been asleep, even though it was two am. Earlier today they had buried Henry Allen, just two short days after he was murdered by Zoom in front of Barry and the thoughts were keeping Joe awake.

The sight had been too eerily familiar for Joe. Fifteen years ago he found himself called to a crime scene, standing in the Allen family home over the body of Nora Allen, the mother of his daughter's best friend; a confused and saddened Barry dropping to his knees and calling out for his mother, willing her to wake up, until Joe ushered him away to take a statement at the station before bringing him home with him. But this scene had played out a little differently. Zoom crashed their evening, whisking away Henry from right in from of them, Barry chasing after them. Luckily Barry had changed into his Flash suit and they were able to track him to the former Allen household. When they arrived, Joe, Iris, Cisco, and Caitlin found Barry huddled over the lifeless body of his father in the same room his mother was murdered, hands clutched to Henry's shoulders, shaking him and calling out for him, once again willing his fallen parent to awaken.

Caitlin and Cisco had come around the other side of Henry's body, trying to get Barry's attention. Joe and Iris were quick to rush to side, sliding to their knees as Barry folded over, pitching to the side as he lost the strength to support himself. Grabbing Barry's flailing wrists as he tried to push them away, Joe gathered them in one of his own while the other hand moved behind his shoulders. Iris grabbed his head between her hands, running a hand through his sweat-matted hair while the other caressed his cheek.

"Barry," Joe called out, voice gentle but stern as Barry struggled to get away. "Barry, stop!"

With a sob Barry finally looked up from his father's body to Joe and Iris, barely seeing them through the flood of tears but realizing for the first time they were here. Suddenly Barry stopped struggling, his body shaking now instead. Joe let go of Barry's wrists and moved his hand to rest above Barry's rapidly beating heart and panting chest, grounding the young man. Iris rubbed circles with her thumb over his tear-streaked cheeks as she whispered, 'its okay, its okay' over and over.

"He's gone," Barry whispered, hanging his head, pulling in shallow breaths as he seemed to struggle for air. It was all Barry could say. Cisco, Caitlin, and Iris ushered a reluctant Barry back to STAR Labs, Caitlin fearful that Barry would go into shock, as Joe called it in. He didn't have to lie to Singh much, telling him Zoom had done this, the Flash had tried to stop it and Barry would need time. Singh didn't ask why, Zoom being a murderous madman was enough of a reason at this time. Joe suspected Singh knew the truth about Barry being the Flash, but Singh never said anything and Joe never asked.

But that was two days ago. Today they had buried Henry, Zoom had come by to taunt Barry as they gathered after, and Barry retired to bed early. The idea of what was taken from Barry kept Joe awake, resigning himself to go over Henry's will instead in an effort to make things as easy for Barry as possible until he was interrupted by the screams that echoed through the house. It was a noise Joe recalled from Barry's childhood, having been plagued by nightmares his whole life. As familiar as it was, Joe never wanted to hear again.

"Barry!" Joe shouted over the young man's shouts and cries as he dropped to his knees beside him. He tried to pull away the sheet wrapped around his legs, pinning his legs together as Barry kicked. He must have gotten tangled in them thrashing around in the bed before falling off and onto the floor with them. The young man's nightmare was bad enough but to be confined like that, to have his legs trapped, it must have put the speedster in a state of panic. Joe finally managed to pull the material from Barry's body, the young man landing a few kicks to Joe's side as he did.

"Barr, wake up!" Joe leaned over Barry's still jerking body and turned him over on his back. Barry's eyes were clenched tightly, sweat soaking through his t-shirt, as he called for Henry, pleaded for Zoom to stop, crying out 'not again'. Joe quickly shifted his position so he was kneeling at Barry's head.

The shaking and calls for the speedster to wake up weren't working, leading Joe to switch tactics. Joe grabbed Barry's flailing arms and gathered them to hold his wrists in one hand while he slipped his free arm beneath Barry's armpit, hoisting up the young man, wrapping his arm around Barry's midsection. Joe fell back on his heels as he held Barry tightly to his chest, the young man's back pressed tightly against his chest.

At the embrace, Barry's screams turned into choked sobs as Joe held him close, rocking him back and forth. He rested his chin atop Barry's head, bringing the hand that wasn't holding Barry's wrists up to push back the sweat-soaked hair from his eyes, over and over raking his fingers back through his hair trying to soothe him. He whispered for Barry to 'shhh' and that 'its okay' over and over until the words began to mean nothing as Joe desperately tried to calm the troubled young man.

Joe wasn't sure how long they stayed like that on the floor until Barry's cries and sobs and shaking faded into to whimpers until Barry's body all but stilled, tears falling silently now, clasped in his foster father's arms.

Joe didn't need to look to know that Iris was standing in the doorway, watching over the two of them. She had stayed tonight after the funeral in the event that Barry needed anything, whether awake or if the inevitable nightmares came. This wasn't a new thing for the small family. Barry had nightmares almost every night for the first year he lived with them, then slowly started to become less frequent as time went on. Iris and Joe gave him no grief, nor felt any discouragement about having their sleep interrupted because they cared about Barry and knew that nightmares meant he was struggling. 

When they were younger Joe tried to keep Iris away from Barry's room so she wouldn't have to see her best friend suffering. There had been nights though where she had heard the screams first, their rooms sharing a wall. Joe would come running in and Iris would already be there sitting beside Barry as he lay, running her fingers through his hair and whispering kind and comforting words. But as his children got older, as the nightmares became rarer and more terrifying for Barry, violent thrashing and calling out, the two of them had become quite adept at handling it together.

"It's okay, Wally," Joe heard Iris say in hushed tones. Looking up he saw a concerned Wally standing in the doorway. Wally was new to the small family and had yet to encounter this particular element of their lives that they'd all become accustomed to, but Wally knew Barry's story and background. Wally didn't wait to be asked as he crossed the room to slip gentle but strong hands around Barry's calves. Joe gained his footing and with Wally's help, they were able to pick the sleeping Barry up off the floor and lay him gently atop his bed. Once Barry was settled in bed, Iris came over and draped Barry's blanket over his sleeping form, placing a teary kiss to the forehead of the boy she grew up with, the man she was coming to love deeply.

Joe grabbed Wally into a quick hug, thanking him and apologizing for waking him up. Wally expressed that he was here if they needed him and shuffled back to bed. Iris offered to stay with Barry so he wouldn't be alone if it happened again but Joe hugged her and told her to get some sleep. He watched her leave, closing the door halfway behind her as Joe brought the armchair from the other side of the room and moved it to Barry's bedside. Plopping his tired body down into the chair, like he had done so many times before in the past fifteen years, Joe watched the slow rise and fall of Barry's sleeping body.

He used to take up residence in this chair to sit with a young Barry till he fell asleep because he was afraid of the dark, when he had nightmares, or when he was sick. As Barry got older, years had gone by without Joe keeping vigil as he slept until the night Barry was struck by lightning. For nine months sitting by Barry's bedside became a part of his regular routine, idly watching the assisted rise and fall of Barry's chest as he lay in a coma. Then Barry became the Flash and instead of fear of the dark or nightmares and waiting for the cries to come that kept Joe at his bedside, Joe found himself sitting by Barry's bed waiting for the pain his son would experience from an injury, unable to be reduced because he couldn't take painkillers, to end.

Up until tonight, Joe had thought the most painful vigil he'd kept, second only to the agonizing question of if Barry would ever wake from his coma, was the night after Zoom broke his back. Joe wasn't sure that Barry would make it through the night with his life. Tonight though, Joe wasn't sure if his son could make it through this night with his heart.

It's true Barry wasn't his blood, wasn't his own biologically. But Joe and Barry had a connection; it was complicated and complex because, at its core, their connection began with brokenness. Joe found Barry on the night where he was left shattered, and through the strength they had to both find, they overcame and formed a special bond. Through their time together Joe learned that biology was the least of what made someone a father.

Joe brought a hand to his mouth, trying to stifle his own cries. Watching one of your children in pain was the toughest thing for any parent. To watch one of your children suffer time and time again; to feel like he once again had to watch his son struggle through more pain, more grief, was devastating for Joe. Barry had to have grieved not only the loss of his mother but the loss of his father. Barry's heart would always ache for Henry, for the relationship that was robbed from them not once, not twice, but three times in Barry's short life. In some sense, a person loses themselves in grief, losing security, trust, and hope for the future. A person is forever changed after experiencing loss and for Barry Allen, someone who lost more than most, it was woven into the fabric of his being and Joe wept for him. But like everything, Joe would help him through this; remind him that not all was lost. No matter what, Joe would always love him, and love could get you through the darkest of days.

A small moan interrupted his thoughts, Joe lifting his eyes to see Barry's body shift slightly towards him, gripping the blanket between his fists above his chest before relaxing again, arms dropping to his sides. Joe heard Barry moan again, brow furrowed in his sleep, but this time it sounded like his name, not in fear or angst but in need of reassurance. Joe wasn't sure until Barry stretched the fingers of his hand, the one closest to Joe. Without hesitation, knowing, Joe reached forward and grabbed his son's hand.

"It's okay, Barr. I'm right here," Joe spoke softly. Barry's fingers slowly curled around the hand holding his tight, his brow relaxing as he exhaled, the reassurance in Joe's presence, not so much in his words, calming Barry as he once again slipped into peaceful slumber.

Since Barry was eleven years old, Joe was there. And for as long as Joe had breath in his body, he would stand by him. Yes, he wept for the broken heart his son seemed destined to live with. But Joe took comfort and pride in the strength Barry carried despite it; that through all his loss and pain, the boy he raised still grew up into a good man, into a hero.


End file.
